Dean's Got Himself A Cas
by smellslikesalvation
Summary: John finds out. One-shot (Rated T, but has harsh language)


_Writing as John was the most difficult thing ever. 1/10 would not do again (maybe). I am not the biggest fan of canon John Winchester (borderline hate), and I hope I got him partially right here? Maybe? Don't hold your breath._

* * *

John figured something was off when Dean scurried out of the motel room at two in the morning. They had just finished a hunt, simple salt and burn, and were staying the night to catch up on sleep before heading out the next day.

He got up and out of the bed, silently opening the door, but Dean was standing by the Impala, phone pressed against his ear. John couldn't hear anything being said, but then Dean laughed.

John hadn't heard Dean laugh since Mary died. Hearing it again felt strange, foreign in his heart. He pushed aside the feeling, and closed the door again, falling back into bed with a sigh. He wondered who was on the other end, when the door opened.

"-you too. Bye," Dean whispered, and shut his phone, sitting on the other bed with his head in his hands. For a moment, John considered going over and asking what was wrong.

But the need for sleep overcame him, and he didn't wake up until morning.

* * *

"What's her name, son?"

Dean, who had been holding his scalding coffee, spilled it down the front of his shirt. John smiled and watched his son tear off his shirt and wipe his skin. "Who?" He said as soon as he pulled on a new shirt.

John chuckled. "The girl that you've been talking to."

Right before they had killed the werewolf in town, Dean's phone had gone off, alerting the monster of their whereabouts. Dean apologized after a loud talking-to from John. Dean had explained he was waiting for a call.

Dean bringing a phone on a hunt is strange enough, but the song was Warrant's _Cherry Pie._ That rang some bells in John's head.

"Uh, she, uh," Dean fumbled for words, and John was close to smacking it out of him because of how long it was taking. Then Dean took a deep breath. "Cas."

"Cas, huh?" John realized something. "Sorta like Bobby's boy, right? What's his name...? Casiel, Casteel, Castle-"

"Castiel?" Dean asked, small smile on his face. "Sorta."

John remembered Bobby introducing the kid to Dean and Sam. While the boys had gotten acquainted, John had taken Bobby aside.

"What the hell were you thinking?" John had asked.

Bobby had glared. "The kid was found in his house, crying, and his parents' eyes burned out of their skulls. What? I just supposed to leave him there?"

"And what about family members? What if they asked about him?"

Bobby had rolled his eyes. "Don't you think I looked? The mother, Rosie, was an only child, lost her mother to cancer and her father to alcohol. The father, Steve, had a brother and sister and only a father, mother lost to, guess what, cancer. His dad died of old age, brother and sister never married, both died in a car accident before Steve married Rosie."

John had scrubbed his face with his hand. "None?"

"None," Bobby had said in a done-talking-about-this tone. They had walked back to where the boys had been playing in the dirt in front of Bobby's house.

John had stood by them. "Well, boys, I'll be back in a few weeks. Don't give Bobby too much trouble."

"We won't," Sam had said, tracing patterns in the dirt. Such a smart kid, given how young he is.

Dean hadn't said anything, piling the dirt then pressing his hand into it. Castiel had glanced between his small pile and Dean's, and John had seen his lower lip jutting out.

"No, like this," and Dean had shown the kid how to do it by cupping it in his hand and making a small hole with his fist to let the dirt slowly pour out.

Castiel had nodded, and tried it. John had stood, said one last, "Goodbye," and drove out of the garage. When he had looked in his mirror to check on them, Dean had the biggest smile on his face.

Now, Dean was wearing that exact same look.

"Well, we'll be heading back to Bobby's for a bit. I might have found a lead on what killed your mother."

"Can't I come with you?" Dean asked.

John stood up from the bed, and went to the bathroom to take a shower. Right before he did, he said, "Not this time. Go call your girl," and shut the door.

Cowardly as it was, John took slightly longer in the shower than normal so he wouldn't have to see Dean's face. Dean didn't understand, he was only four when Mary died, that John needed to do this himself. Whatever killed Mary was going to die, and John would be the one pulling the trigger.

As it turned out, Dean was still gone by the time John got out. He put on jeans and a ratty shirt, and over that, a rattier jacket. He quickly packed his duffel, and slung it over his shoulder. He walked out of the motel room, and Dean was there again, standing next to the Impala, phone to his ear.

As John got closer, he caught, "Can't wait to see you again." He tried not to laugh, but he must've done an awful job because Dean turned on his heel, staring open-mouthed at a laughing John. John opened the trunk, and stuffed his bag in.

"Get packing. We're leaving in five minutes," John said, and sat in the driver's seat. Dean left and came back within the five minutes; his expression was too schooled for John to even consider it was natural.

This girl must be really under Dean's skin.

* * *

John didn't get out of the car himself, just pulled in as close to the door as possible, and Dean got out, going around back to grab his bag. Bobby and Castiel came out, greeting them. It's been a few months since John last saw them, and Castiel was as tall as Bobby now.

"Don't know how long I'll be gone. You sure you can handle these two?" John asked out the window. He watched his son chase Castiel inside, and John raised an eyebrow.

"Well, neither of 'em have school," Bobby grumbled through the window, "but I have a couple cars that need fixin' up. They'll be plenty busy."

John nodded. "See you soon."

Bobby merely flapped a hand in his direction, and when he went to walk up the porch, he stopped, and John saw him walk around to the cars instead.

John wondered why Bobby wouldn't go inside yet, but he had a demon to kill, and Mary to avenge.

* * *

The lead was good. Really good. John could practically taste the demon's defeat. He was gone for a month now, and decided he needed to talk to Dean.

He dialed as he pulled onto the highway. "Dean," he said as the phone was picked up.

"Dean Winchester speaking," someone in a very deep voice answered. John was close to driving straight back to Sioux Falls thinking a monster had them, but then he heard Dean's voice.

"Quit being such a dork," then the phone was dropped, and Dean cursed. "Shit, sorry 'bout that dad. Cas-s-stiel is a pain in the ass sometimes." John waited as Dean covered the phone with his palm, then added, "Scratch that. _All_ the time." Castiel, John guessed, gasped.

"Dean, listen to me," John said in his authoritative tone. Dean immediately stopped laughing, and told Castiel he'd be right back.

"What's wrong?" Dean said.

John sighed. "The info I received is leading me farther away, so I probably won't be back until after New Year's."

Dean was silent for a second. "Dad, that's two months away. You can't be serious."

"Dead serious," John replied. "Listen, Dean, this is serious stuff. I'm so close to stopping all of this."

Dean sighed, and it sounded like he hit the phone against his head. "Whatever."

John was about to hang up. "Let Bobby know, will ya?"

He hung up after Dean made a noise that John took as "Okay," and focused back on the road.

* * *

Yellow-Eyes got away. John was right there, and he let it slip away. Possibly his only chance at killing the son of a bitch, and now it was gone.

He made it back to the motel room in one piece, but as soon as the door closed behind him, he trudged to the fridge and took out a bottle of whiskey.

John remembered drinking some of it, and then it became a blurry mess until he blacked out.

* * *

He drove back to Bobby's the next day, after the hangover pains subsided enough for him to see clearly. His right hand was in pain, and he had no idea why. But the dent in the wall gave him a pretty good understanding of what happened.

It took him close to two days to reach South Dakota, then another three hours to get to Bobby's. He wasn't in the mood for anything other than another hunt, and by the time he reached Bobby's, John wanted to get out as fast as possible.

Bobby came out to see him. Only Bobby.

"Where's Dean?" John asked.

Bobby jerked him thumb at the house. "Sleeping."

John nodded. "Tell him to get his ass out here. We're leaving." He wasn't prepared for Bobby to shake his head no. "The hell, Bobby? Get my kid!"

"Can't do that," Bobby said, and even though his tone was apologizing, his face said otherwise.

John didn't have time for this. He got out of the car, and was stopped from going inside by Bobby's hand. John resorted to other measures. "Dean! Get your ass out here, NOW!"

He waited a beat, then he heard the sounds of footsteps pounding down the stairs. Dean's hair was a mess, longer than the last time John saw him, and his right cheek was red. "Dad? What're you doin' here?" He was still half asleep.

John glared. "Pack. We're leaving right now."

Dean's face fell. "Now?"

"What the hell are you waiting for?" John yelled over the car. "Go!"

He looked torn, but Dean eventually backed into the house. John sighed, the yelling took a lot out of him, plus he had been driving almost nonstop for the past three days. He got back into the car.

"Why are you doing this to him?" Bobby asked.

John ran a hand through his hair. "I'm teaching him about the world."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Did you ever stop to consider he hates the lessons?"

"Don't tell me about my own kids, Singer," John warned.

"Well I seem to be the only one who listens to him besides my own kid, so yeah, I will." Bobby stepped away from the car and stomped into the house. John stared at the wheel in front of him.

Dean stormed out of the house, looking angrier than John had ever seen him before, all but throwing his bag in the trunk, and slamming the door behind him as he sat in the back seat.

John didn't question it, Dean didn't say anything.

"Did you have a fight with Cas?" He asked as he started the car.

"Did I ask you?" Dean snapped back, his arms crossed so tightly across his chest, John could see veins popping.

John sighed. "Women are complicated creatures. She'll come 'round," he said reassuringly.

Dean huffed, and John turned away from the house. As he did so, he saw Castiel in one of the windows, wiping his face as he turned away. John marked it off as seeing one of his best friends leaving him to an empty house.

"And don't worry about Castiel, he'll be fine by himself for a bit." John heard a noise from the backseat, and when he turned around, Dean was asleep with his jacket as a pillow.

John chuckled. He thought about this girl Dean was seeing, and how important she was to Dean's life. If Dean's snoring was anything to go by, he would have to say a lot.

* * *

Dean didn't call his girl for a week after leaving Bobby's. His ability to hunt wasn't impaired during that time, so John didn't care.

John knew it was Cas because Dean stared at his phone for ten solid minutes before excusing himself to go outside. When John tried to listen in on the conversation, he couldn't hear anything. He opened the door, and Dean was across the street heading towards the pond near the playground.

John closed the door, and shrugged. If Dean didn't want anybody to hear, John, once again, didn't care.

Dean came back an hour later, looking better, but still wary. As if something was going to pop out of the shadows and swallow him whole. Which could happen.

"Did you smooth it over?" John asked with a raised eyebrow.

Dean laughed nervously. "Yeah. We, uh, fixed it."

John smiled. "Good to hear, son."

Dean didn't smile back.

* * *

"Dad?"

John hummed, reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Yes?"

"I, um, well, you know how I love pie, right?" And John was already lost. He sat back in his chair, ignoring his newspaper to focus on Dean, who was now shifting in his seat.

"Where is this going Dean?"

Dean took a deep breath. "Well I love pie. That's a given. But I also like cake. Like you know how there's that one cake in a display window and you think, 'Damn, that's a fine cake,' and then you buy it cuz, why the hell not, and you try a bite, and it's the best cake in the world, possibly better than pie, and you don't know if you can have pie again cuz of this one goddamn cake?"

John stared at Dean with his mouth open, coffee cup at his lips. "Uh," he shook himself out of it, and sipped his coffee, "not one bit, kiddo."

Dean sighed, and then squared his shoulders. "Fine. Do you remember what I just said?"

"Um, sorta."

"Ok, replace pie with girls, and cake with guy." Dean sat back apparently satisfied.

John stared at his son, then took his time to think. So, replacing pie with girl and cake with guy. That meant...

"Dean," John said lowly, placing his cup on the table, "are you telling me you like a guy?"

Dean gulped. "Uh, yes?" He squeaked out.

John's eye twitched a little. Dean, who flirted with everything that moved. Dean, who could get all the attention in the room just by breathing. Dean, who used to be gone for whole nights and leave John and Sam by themselves.

He cleared his throat, and picked up his coffee cup. Dean didn't really like a guy. He just needed more attention.

"Dean, you know there are other ways to get my attention." When Dean opened his mouth, most likely to stop him, John held up a hand. "It's fine. We can hang out more, go to a bar. You know what," John stood and grabbed his coat, "let's go take a walk around town. Clear your head."

"Dad, my head-" Dean stopped when John glared at him. He silently got his own coat, and followed John out the door.

They came back to the motel room a few hours later, both less tense, and John mentally patted himself on the back. Dean didn't bring up the boy, and John didn't bother remembering.

* * *

Their next hunt was in Texas, a ten hour drive from where they were currently. John drove the first five hours, then Dean took over for the homestretch.

John woke up as Dean pulled into the motel parking lot. He said bye to someone on the phone, and looked back at his dad.

"Who was that?" John asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Bobby," Dean replied.

John sat up, opened the car door, and stretched his legs outside. "What'd the old coot want?" He said jokingly.

Dean chuckled. "Wanted to know when we're gettin' out asses back up there. Wants us there for Easter."

John checked his phone. "Well then. We need to finish this in a week. Otherwise we'll never make it. Do you wanna check in, or me?"

"I will," Dean said, striding towards the office. John watched the woman behind the counter blush at Dean's smile, and John knew _that _was his son.

He opened the trunk, staring at Dean's duffle. He rarely let John get anything from inside, and John wasn't about to-

Yes. Yes he was. John zipped open the bag, shuffling through clothes and Dean's gun. Nothing suspicious so far. He closed the main compartment, checked to make sure Dean wasn't coming out yet.

Coast clear. John opened one of the side pockets, only found a toothbrush and a small tube of toothpaste. He closed that one. Right as he was about to open the last pocket, he heard footsteps.

John backed off, pretending to go through his own bag as if he was checking for something. "We ready?" He said as he slung his bag over his shoulder, Dean doing the same and shutting the trunk.

Dean sighed. "I tried to get us the end spot, but the best we can do is the room next to the end ones."

John smiled. "No problem." He snatched one of the keycards, and headed to the room it was assigned to.

They dropped their bags on their own beds; John's being the one closer to the door. He sat at the table to look through the newspapers to find this particular hunt.

Dean stood next to his bed, rotating his phone in his hands and staring off into space. John glanced at him, then went back to the newspapers.

Dean dropped his phone on the bed, and mumbled, "'M gunna take shower," before disappearing into the bathroom. John heard the shower turn on.

_"She's my cherry pie!"_

John jumped at Dean's ringtone, and was about to ignore it until he remembered that it was the ringtone of who John believed was Dean's girlfriend.

Springing out of his chair, John opened the phone. "Hello?"

There was a moment of silence. "Hello, is Dean there?" Castiel, Bobby's boy. John was shocked into silence; he physically couldn't answer the boy.

"Uh, Dean's not able to take a call at the moment, but I can tell him you called." John swallowed, and his throat was abnormally dry. "Actually," John had to suffocate the urge in his mind to just stop talking, "I think you should just stop calling altogether. Dean was complaining earlier that it was getting bothersome."

Castiel gasped quietly. "Oh."

"Yeah. I'll let him know you called though," John said, as if it was supposed to let them both feel better.

"Thanks." Castiel sounded defeated and sad, then hung up. John cringed at the sound, but it was for the best,

He returned to his seat before Dean got out of the shower, running his finger down a paragraph like he was intently reading it and not internally freaking out. No, that's not right. Winchester's don't freak out, they don't panic. They re-strategize.

Dean toweled off his hair, which was in dire need of a cut, and checked his phone. He put it down on the bed disappointed.

John spoke. "Well, it seems quiet for the night. How about we head to a bar, huh?"

Dean looked up at him, frowning. "Uh, I'm not really in the mood."

John scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous. We'll go right now."

Dean sighed and nodded. "Yes, sir." He went back into the bathroom, shoulders slumped and head down.

This is exactly what he needed. What _they_ needed. Beer, girls, a night for himself. John would fix this. He was going to fix this.

* * *

The night started out just fine. He and Dean in a booth, beers for the both of them, and John found a bar teeming with single women.

Dean took a long gulp of his beer. "Can I go now? I'm expecting a call."

John shook his head. He had told Dean that phones stay in the car. "No, we are going to spend time together, then maybe some time apart." John winked at his son, who seemed to sink into his seat a little more. "Don't be like that."

"Like what?" Dean snapped. "Like I don't wanna be here?"

"Stop it. Buck up and smile." John sipped his beer as a nice looking woman came over.

She placed a hand on Dean's arm. "Hello, boys." She looked at Dean. "You wanna dance?"

Dean looked at her, and smiled. "Sorry, not really feeling it tonight." She gave him a confused smile as she walked away, and John kicked his leg under the table. "Ow, what the hell?"

John gave him a pointed look. "She was gorgeous. What's the matter with you?"

"I told you why! You just don't seem to listen!" Dean whisper-yelled over the table.

John rolled his eyes. "Back on the 'I like a guy' train?" He leaned in. "Dean, I already told you that you don't have to do that," he sat back, "Look at us, hanging out, together, my attention on you."

Dean sighed and cursed under his breath. He was drinking his beer when yet another woman came over.

"Hey there. What's your name?" She asked, friendly smiles and tight clothing.

"My name's taken," Dean said, staring the woman down.

John glared. "Dean. This isn't funny." Dean laughed. "I'm sorry, what's so amusing?"

Dean grinned. "Thought you were going to say, 'the voice says I'm almost out of minutes' that's all." John still didn't get it. Dean waved him off. "Nothing."

"There's something."

"I've told you, Dad. You refuse to listen to me." Dean downed the rest of his glass, and set it aside.

John looked at it like it had done him a personal wrong just for being empty. "You want another?"

Dean shook his head. "Naw, I'm good." He yawned. "Gettin' tired. Can we go now?"

"You can sleep _after_ you go home with a girl," John replied, sticking with the plan he came here with. Get Dean a girl.

"And if I don't?" Dean sounded bored.

John shrugged. "Then you don't sleep until you do. Simple." Oh. "No phone either."

The way Dean perked up right after that, John should've thought of that first. Dean slid out of his seat, heading right for a group of women standing near the dance floor. The women blushed harder than anyone John had ever seen before.

John raised his glass, and drank. Drank to his success, and to Dean's.

* * *

Once Dean did leave with a lucky lady, John headed out. He wasn't so drunk he couldn't drive, but he was a bit fuzzy, and it was nighttime.

Still, he needed to get back to the motel for some serious sleep. He drove carefully, and parked the Impala semi-straight. At least, he hoped he did. He fumbled with the keycard a few times before getting it right, and was drunk and dizzy enough not to notice that Dean's bed was occupied.

John passed out before his head hit the pillow.

* * *

Dean was sleeping in the bed next to John's when John got up early in the morning. He threw a pillow at his son's head.

"Get up, Dean. Gotta go." Dean jumped awake, half his face red from sleeping on it. "How was your night?"

Dean yawned. "Fine."

John didn't press any further. They needed to interview people, figure out what was mutilating people in town, and get out so they could make it up to Bobby's for Easter.

He paused when he remembered Castiel. The one who had the ringtone that made John believe it was Dean's girlfriend. Castiel. Cas.

John started coughing out of the blue, and Dean asked him if he was alright. John merely waved him off, and retreated into the bathroom to take a shower.

So, Bobby's boy is the one who caught Dean's attention. Well, that won't do all.

He donned his suit in the bathroom, thinking about his new revelations. When he emerged, steam billowing out behind him, Dean was looking at his phone.

"Something wrong son?" He asked.

Dean looked up, and John couldn't believe the glare he was being given. "You answered my phone." John scoffed, but Dean crept closer. "You answered my phone, told Cas to _never_ call again, and expected me to be okay with that?"

"I was doing what was-"

"If you say 'doing what is best for you' I'm going to shove this phone so far up your ass..." Dean sighed, rubbing his jaw. "Why, why did you do that?"

John sucked in a breath. "Because you're doing this for attention Dean. But you don't have to anymore. I've been here, giving you the attention you need."

Dean laughed, nothing happy about it. "I don't need attention, Dad. I want you to understand I'm not different. Nothing's changed."

"You like a guy."

Dean huffed angrily. "What does that have to do with anything. Physically, I am the _same_ exact person, same exact _son, _that knows how to hunt, and drink beer. How does liking a certain gender affect all that?"

John shook his head. "Can't do this right now Dean. We have a hunt to do. Grab your gun."

He left the room, a small headache beginning to pound its way to the forefront of his mind. Ignoring it, John slid into the front seat, passenger seat filled by Dean a few minutes later.

* * *

"We're not going to Bobby's."

Dean whipped his head up from the passenger seat. They finished the hunt, shifters it turned out, and John began driving towards New Mexico.

"But Dad-"

"No buts." John's grip on the wheel tightened, his knuckles white against the black leather. "Demon activity in New Mexico. Might have something to do with Yellow-Eyes."

Dean didn't respond. He did, however, type on his phone. John knew he was texting, he had an idea who it was, and a jolt of anger flowed through him.

John leaned over, took Dean's phone, and threw it out the window.

Dean looked like someone died. "What the fuck? Like what the actual _fuck_ is wrong with you?" Dean yelled.

John tsked. "No yelling. You need to be focused."

Each time John tried to bring up a conversation, it was shot down by Dean's silence.

* * *

John refused to stay in the same motel for more than three days at a time. Dean didn't ask. He hadn't been talking to John at all, in fact, but John wasn't worried. Dean was more focused, more deadly than ever before.

A success in John's head.

Five months after Easter passed, John hadn't contacted Bobby once. No doubt Dean called, but he had no proof. He also had no clue if Dean had talked to Castiel either. If by cutting him out made Dean a better hunter, then John did good.

It was not what happened.

"Bobby's demanding we visit him before summer ends," Dean said while field-stripping his gun.

John nodded. "Maybe."

Dean didn't reply. John did notice his movements become angrier, rougher than before.

John chalked it up to cabin fever.

* * *

John relented. Bobby's was only three hours away, so he had Dean drive while John caught up on his sleep.

He was still asleep by the time they reached Bobby's, and it was dark out. The car was stopped, and Dean wasn't in sight. He must've just pulled up.

John opened the door, and Bobby was sitting on the porch.

"Hey, Bobby," John said as he cracked his neck. "Why're you out here?"

Bobby drank something alcoholic out of his glass. "Waitin' for your dumb ass to wake up." Bobby's eyes were downcast, and his lips were pulled into a frown. "Dean told me about him coming out to you."

John sighed. "He's not gay. He doesn't like guys." He plopped down on the stairs next to Bobby.

"No, you're right. He doesn't like guys." John raised one eyebrow. "He likes one."

Bobby stood, and John followed. "What?" Bobby motioned with his head, and walked around the back of his house. John walked with him, and stopped when Bobby did.

"I don't get it," John said, then followed Bobby's line of vision. Two figures were sitting on the ground, staring up at the sky. One of them had an arm across the other's shoulders, holding the person close.

John was about to question it again, when he noticed the black mop of hair on one, and the recently cut brown hair of the other.

"They haven't seen each other in seven months. You breathe a word to either of 'em right now, you're banned from this property," Bobby threatened.

John watched, helpless, as Dean leaned down and kissed the top of Castiel's head. The leather jacket John gave Dean was on the ground near them, dumped like a piece of trash.

"Fine," John said, looking away from the scene. "But me and Dean are leaving tomorrow morning."

Bobby clicked his tongue. "Don't think so."

John glared. "Are we doing this again? Don't tell me how to raise my kid."

Bobby just shook his head. "Not telling you how to do nothin'. But Dean ain't leavin' for at least three weeks. And then some if he wants to stay longer." Bobby turned around and walked inside the house. John watched him go.

He had to look one last time. With the moon at its peak, John could see the outline of Dean's face, so calm and stretched into the widest grin John had ever seen. Castiel wasn't even looking at Dean, but at the stars and moon above him.

John didn't want to push his son away, like he did to Sam. Dean used to follow every single command to the tee, no questions asked. John didn't notice until now, but after Dean became involved with Castiel, he asked questions, thought before acting.

He was confused, because Dean was almost a perfect hunter. His aim was impeccable, his knowledge of monsters was close to unmatchable.

That was when John realized Dean was right.

* * *

John spent a better part of the night fighting with himself. Half said he should just leave, take one of Bobby's repaired trucks, and leave right now. The other part said to stay, wait until tomorrow and talk with Dean and Castiel.

That part won out.

John ended up in the kitchen with Bobby. The boys weren't up yet, and John took the cup of coffee Bobby held out.

"I've been thinking," John started. Bobby grunted. "I don't-"

Two pairs of footsteps ran down the stairs. John heard laughing and yelling before he saw them. Dean was grinning so hard his face must hurt, and Castiel was trying his hardest to frown, but John watched as it melted and was replaced by a wide smile.

Bobby cleared his throat, and Dean and Castiel jumped apart, Dean going to help Bobby with breakfast, and Castiel standing in the doorway.

"Castiel," John said, making the poor boy jump, "come, sit down."

Dean glanced back, giving Castiel a shrug, and tending to the pan containing eggs.

Castiel sat down carefully at the table, seated across from John. He didn't look him in the eye, probably scared John would hurt him or something.

"So, Castiel," John set down his cup and leaned forward on the table. He saw Castiel visibly tense, and Bobby go into defender mode. "I heard you like to fix cars."

* * *

John tossed his bag in the backseat of one of Bobby's beat-up trucks. He had given Dean the Impala keys earlier that day. He would miss her, but Dean might be able to appreciate her more.

Bobby gave his goodbyes inside, so all that was left were Dean and Castiel. He shut the door, and leaned against the car. Dean was whispering to Castiel as they walked out of the house, their hands shoved in their pockets. Even though John told them he didn't mind, they were being respectful anyway. That pulled something in John's heart.

Dean was laughing at something Castiel said. "That was one time, Cas!"

"If by one time you mean ten times, then yes, _one_." Castiel grinned.

It was strange, seeing Dean so happy and open again after Mary's death. John had watched as his four year old innocent son turned into a monster killing machine. This Dean was far more... refreshing, if John was honest with himself.

"Hey, boys," John greeted as they stopped a few feet away.

"Mr. Winchester," Castiel said.

John chuckled. "You can call me John."

Castiel smiled. "John."

Dean stepped forward, and put his hand out for John to shake. John did, but then pulled Dean in for a hug with a slap on his back.

"No hard feelings?" John asked.

Dean glanced at Castiel, and smiled as he looked back at John. "None."

John exhaled a sigh of relief. "Good. I shouldn't have said some things-"

"Dad," Dean put a hand up.

John backed off, and smiled. "See you soon, I hope." He jumped into the truck's driver seat.

Dean wrapped an arm around Castiel's waist. "Can't wait," he said as his eyes flicked over Castiel's face.

John looked at the two of them, and saw something new. Dean looked at Castiel like John looked at Mary. He laughed, and started the truck up before any more thoughts of Mary invaded his mind.

As he looked back at them in his rearview mirror, Dean tackling Castiel to the ground, Castiel fighting back, both of them kissing in a tangled mess of limbs, John knew from that day forward, they would be _exactly_ like him and Mary.

* * *

_Highly doubtful that John would actually be okay with it the way he was here. If I had written it the other way, I probably would've mad myself sad, so this is the happy ending. Yay! Please review! :)_


End file.
